


By Any Other Name

by aurora_australis



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen, MFMM Year of Quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: “She was there, in the full vigour of her personality, battered but not diminished."In the aftermath of betrayal, Rosie Sanderson has a choice to make.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the MFMM Year of Quotes -- June Challenge.
> 
> Inspired by the quote: “She was there, in the full vigour of her personality, battered but not diminished” Willa Cather, _My Antonia ___
> 
>   
>  Many thanks to fromaLongLineofTVDetectives for the beta read!  
> 

When Rosie Sanderson had become Rosie Robinson she had been ecstatic. She’d given her old name away freely, happily, the day she married Jack. She knew, down to her bones, that from now on they would share everything, and that began with a name. Before the War, everywhere she went she proudly introduced herself as “Mrs. Jack Robinson,” announcing to all her role and her allegiance, walking through life with her head held high.

After the War, she tried to be “Mrs. Jack Robinson” again, but found it rung a little hollow when she declared it out loud. She still loved her husband, of course, and she knew he loved her, but he seemed to need every part of himself he could find these days, and she couldn’t bear to take anything else from him. “Rosie Robinson,” she’d say, when introducing herself, still proud of the man and his name, but knowing now that she and Jack didn’t share everything.

When Rosie Robinson once again became Rosie Sanderson, she mourned the loss. In the end, a last name was the _only_ thing she and Jack had shared, and now even that was gone. Still, it was the right decision. She knew it and Jack knew it, and even Father knew it eventually. She wasn’t proud of the change in her name, but she wasn’t embarrassed either. Rosie Sanderson had agency and gumption. And besides, she was going to be Rosie Fletcher soon enough anyway. 

And then the Panderus.

Rosie spent the first few days after the incident in shock, processing things slowly. Her world had imploded, the two men she trusted most had participated in evils that defied comprehension or understanding. Her reality felt like it had shifted on its axis and she couldn’t compensate fast enough to find her footing - one minute she was upright and the next she was tumbling towards an abyss. She was reminded of the dance recitals of her youth, looking for a spot on the wall to orient herself as she twirled. But try as she might, she couldn’t find a spot to focus on, and her bearings remained out of reach. Everything felt slightly hazy. And then, two days after his arrest and despite attempts by important people to keep it quiet, there it was in black and white, perfectly in focus. The newspaper headline screamed at her, “COMMISSIONER CORRUPT - SANDERSON SHIELDS SLAVER SON!”

And for the first time in her life, Rosie Sanderson was ashamed of her name.

For months after the arrests, she avoided her usual social circles (or they avoided her, she couldn’t be bothered to make the distinction). She mostly stayed in, helped her sister, played with her nieces. When she did go out, if she happened to meet someone new, she simply introduced herself as “Rosie,” and let them think her a little odd or too informal. Better that than the alternative. She was still looking for her spot and couldn’t trouble herself with too much else.

And then one day Jack came to visit. This wasn’t unusual in and of itself, of course; Jack visited her often at her sister’s. He’d become a wonderful friend since the arrests and she was still proud of the man he was, and glad his name at least remained unsullied. What was unusual was who he brought with him.

“Miss Fisher,” Rosie said, “this is a surprise. I didn’t even know you were back in the country.”

“I’ve been back a few weeks actually. I didn’t want to stay away too long, I had something I needed to get back to.”

“Something or someone?” Rosie asked with a small smile and a pointed look towards Jack. She wasn’t sure she was ready yet to go so far as to apologize to the other woman for her snap judgements, but she was certainly prepared to start over if Phryne was.

And, as an added bonus, the comment made Jack blush furiously.

Phryne smiled wide and took Rosie’s arm, walking with her down to the parlour, as Jack did his best to keep up.

When they had all taken a seat, the mood became serious.

“I’m afraid we have some troubling news.”

“Oh?”

“The case against Fletcher and your father is decent, but there are still a lot of holes in it right now and the trial is fast approaching. The prosecution has interviewed both Miss Fisher and me multiple times in the last few weeks hoping we’ll remember something new, be able to ‘plug up some of the holes’, as it were. But I’m afraid we’ve told them all we know.”

“I see.” Rosie said, feeling that axis shift off a little more. It was one thing for them to ruin her life with impunity, but to get away with what they’d done to those poor girls… “And you want my help.”

“We do.” Phryne said. “Rosie, we believe you may know more than you realize. Think back, is there anything you saw, or heard, during your time with either man? Anything that, given what you know now, might mean more?”

“Intuition and observation, Miss Fisher?” Rosie asked.

“Phryne, please. And yes, that’s it exactly.”

“You don’t need to decide right now,” Jack assured her. “Think about it. Perhaps meet with the prosecutor.” He passed her the man’s card and then kept hold of her hand. “I know this is asking a lot of you, to testify against your father and Sidney. But I also know _you_ , Rosie. You’ve always been more concerned with others than yourself. I know it’s not fair, but right now you might be the best chance we have of seeing justice done.”

“Think about it. And call on me.” Phryne said handing Rosie her card as well.

“If I decide to testify, you mean.” Rosie clarified.

“No. Call on me either way. We’ll have tea. Or cocktails. Your choice,” Phryne answered with a wink. Then both she and Jack stood up to leave.

After they’d gone, Rosie looked at the two cards in her hand. The typeface was nice, she thought. The print was simple, but it was clear and precise. 

Rosie had found her spot.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Rosie had never had what you might call a commanding presence. Though regal in her bearing, she had always been happy to play the role of consort as opposed to queen regent. And it would be perfectly understandable to assume that that tendency towards reserve would have been exacerbated by recent events. She had lost so much over the last year. On the day she testified, she didn’t have a husband, or fiancé, or father. She didn’t have many friends or financial security or a clear path forward. She didn’t even have a name she could be proud of. But you’d never know any of that to look at her when she took the stand. 

Because what Rosie Sanderson did have was an excellent memory. 

She recounted names, dates, details and conversations going back years. She calmly connected the dots for the jury, and with every new revelation Sidney Fletcher looked less smug and George Sanderson looked more pale. Earlier conversations with the prosecutor had even led to the indictment of two more partners in the operation the investigation hadn’t initially uncovered. Rosie had oriented herself and was now dancing circles around the men who had betrayed her.

And when it was over, she walked with dignity out of the courtroom, around the corner, down the block and into an alley, where she placed her hands against the wall and proceeded to sob for ten minutes straight.

When she could breathe again she looked up to see Jack and Phryne standing a few feet away. She should have been embarrassed, she supposed, but she didn’t have the energy. Rosie looked at the two of them, her ex-husband and his new lover, and indicated with a nod that they could approach.

Jack handed her a handkerchief.

Phryne handed her a flask.

Rosie took a deep breath, and felt the axis realign. She dried her eyes, took a drink, and held her head up high.

That was the moment Rosie Sanderson took back her name.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by a discussions of Rosie on Tumblr and _Marked for Murder _during a rewatch. If you’re looking for inspiration and intelligent conversation, you really can’t beat this fandom. :-)__
> 
>  
> 
> The title is inspired by the popular phrase, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” which was itself inspired by a line in Shakespeare’s _Romeo and Juliet._


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